


I'll Run to you

by thecanadiananimagus



Category: Doctor Who, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29220117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecanadiananimagus/pseuds/thecanadiananimagus
Summary: Ron was always running from something. What he never planned on is that Hermione would catch up to him, and she'd never let go.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

There's no such thing as a coincidence. Hermione had learnt that the hard way.

She was only five years old when she first set eyes on him. Through the crowd at King's Cross station, she saw a boy who stood out amongst everyone — his flaming red hair acting as a beacon. She didn't get the chance to talk to him, but the things about that boy, the one thing he did, it stuck with her for years.

As she waited for the train, her parents on either side of her and holding onto her hands, the boy was running across the platform and tripped, falling down at their feet.

Instead of crying out for his family, the boy simply got up and dusted himself off with his long, frail arms. He looked over to her and grinned; the boy's cheeks were naturally rosy, but did nothing to conceal the freckles scattered across his face. Without saying a word, the boy started running once more like he’d never fallen in the first place.

"Where do you think his parents are?” her mother asked as all three members of the Granger family watched him. Though the boy towered over Hermione, he couldn’t have been much older than her. “Do you think he’s lost?”

He seemed to know where he was going, bumping through the crowd and knocking people over as he moved, his black cloak billowing behind him. He apologized repeatedly, and Hermione remembered thinking  _ ‘well at least he has manners’. _

Without thinking, Hermione let go of her parents’ hands and started chasing after the boy. She heard the calls from her mother and father but couldn’t look back. She followed him up the stairs and out onto the streets of London, a path cleared from all the people he'd knocked over, making it easier to catch up to him.

There was a cacophony of noise in the street. People were shouting at the boy and the cars honked their horns as he cut right out in front of them. The boy hadn’t been run over, which Hermione thought was a miracle. From the way he was acting, the boy wasn’t worried about a thing.

His erratic behaviour only made her want to talk to him more.

Suddenly, he rounded the corner and sprinted down the alley, coming to a stop in front of an old blue police box. The paint on the structure was incredibly chipped, and the dirt covering it made it look more brown than blue. Hermione watched him run inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hermione!" her parents called out, coming up from behind her. At the sound of their voices, she turned away from the box and ran to meet them. Her got down on their knees and threw their arms around her, their hold on Hermione so firm that she couldn’t escape.

"What were you thinking?!" Mrs. Granger asked, leaning back and running a hand through her hair. Hermione saw the tears in her mother’s eyes and felt her own grow wet.

Hermione said nothing and pointed down the alley. The raggedy blue police box was gone, and the boy was nowhere to be seen. A cool breeze brushed her face, and Hermione found herself drawing closer to her father for warmth, drying her eyes on his coat.

Her father looked over to where she pointed, but saw nothing. They had arrived too late and hadn't seen a thing. He only took Hermione in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

She tried to speak, desperate to make them understand, but her voice came out as a squeak.

Hermione was upset she didn’t get a chance to talk to the boy, although his face remained with her for the next few years.

***

It was ten years before Hermione saw the boy again and, in that time, she had attended three different schools, lost two jobs and witnessed her parents opening a new dental practice.

Still, by the end of those years, Hermione felt she was where she needed to be. 

Not long after she had first seen the boy, Hermione and her parents were invited to her primary school for a meeting with the Headmaster. The Headmaster. curriculum taught l wasn't advanced enough for Hermione. It was recommended she attended one of the more prestigious private schools in the country; Benenden.

Unfortunately, only two years after they had enrolled Hermione in the school, the Grangers found their dental practice wasn’t raising enough money to pay her tuition fees. So, her parents decided to pack up everything they had and move to a city where the income was much higher. Of course, moving to London meant yet another new school for Hermione.

Years of tuition for private schools drained her parents’ bank account, and they soon found themselves struggling to afford the books she needed for her studies. With the looming pressure of her GCSE years, these were more important than ever and the family found themselves having to make a tough decision.

Hermione had been the one to volunteer to get a weekend job. It had been difficult, especially as her assigned. hours weren't for her to decide. When she took on the work, she promised herself that if she had an upcoming exam or a big piece of coursework her schoolwork would come first. The price for being the top of her class, as it turned out, was getting fired the next day.

"Hello, my name's Hermione. What can I get you?" she asked, not looking up from the counter.

Working at the coffee shop was the only job she could get, and with most of the employees being students, the hours were much more reasonable than her previous jobs.

That, however, was the only good thing to come out of it. The customers never gave her thanks, the other workers - being in university - often looked down on her for being the youngest, and no one ever pronounced her name correctly. Even after she said it, it always came out as  _ Her-my-one _ , or  _ Herm-own-nee _ , or (in one weird attempt)  _ Herm-own-ninny _ .

"What do you recommend?"

An unusually polite voice said, causing Hermione. She was surprised to see the boy with flaming red hair. Tall, thin, and gangly, with freckles covering his face. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his introductory question seemed forgotten.

"I never forget a face... I've seen you before, haven't I?"

Hermione’s face burnt red as she looked him up and down. The boy had on a similar black cloak to the one he wore at King's Cross, except this one was larger. She could see a small red crest on the front, emblazoned with a gold lion.

"King's Cross!" The boy answered his own question. "Ten years ago. Well, ten years for me at least. Actually, uh... forget I said that."

Hermione looked over his shoulder at the long and increasingly impatient line of customers behind him, deciding the best thing to do was ignore the comment.

"You have no idea what you want, then?"

"Afraid not." the boy was blissfully ignorant to the groans behind him.

"The uh -" she stammered. "the ginger tea's lovely. It's always been my favourite."

He smiled brightly, running a hand through his hair as his ears turned pink.

"I'll trust your judgement." the boy said, watching Hermione write his order on a paper cup.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, concealing a smile as she started to get his drink ready.

Even though he disappeared from her sights ten years ago, that didn't stop her from talking about him to anyone who would listen. Over the years, Hermione had come up with a few ideas about him, and only one thing stayed the same. The name she'd given him; the first thing that popped into her head.

Ron.

"It's a bit difficult to pronounce." he looked around, almost afraid to say it.

"Well, you can make one up If you'd like? Just make sure I can spell it."

'Ron' paused for a moment and said nothing, tugging at the sleeve of his funny-looking cloak. Behind him, more and more people were muttering impatiently under their breath, and the shade of pink on his cheeks was growing brighter by the second.

"The Doctor," he decided, stepping off to the side to allow the next customer to come and place their order. "You can call me the Doctor."

Hermione was confused by his choice but wrote it on the cup anyway. Name was a loose term in his case and she decided she liked Ron better.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a customer clearing his voice. Hermione looked up to see a customer who apparently had only just given her his order. The cycle repeated and every customer who came to Hermione’s side of the counter voiced their annoyance of her conversation with Ron.

"Doctor." she said, finally placing his cup on the counter.

"Hermione." Ron came across the shop and took it from her, giving her a nod. Watching him leave, Hermione was almost too distracted by him pronouncing her name properly to realize that he hadn’t paid.

"Oi!" Hermione called out, rushing around the counter and chasing after him.

She was blocked by the line of customers, refusing to let her pass. Hermione stood on her toes, determined to keep him in her sights. The boy was already out the door, but this time she wasn’t going to let him get away.

Hermione circled around and stormed through the back door, sprinting down they alley. She saw him passing by from a distance,

"Ron - err - Doctor!"

Ron turned on his heel, Hermione almost crashing into him before she could come to a complete stop. He only greeted her with an innocent smile. Did he not realize he'd done something wrong?

"Oh, hello there!"

"You forgot to pay." She held out her hand expectantly, causing his face to fall.

"Oh, right..." he rummaged through his pockets, eventually finding what he was looking for. "I'm uh - well, I'm from out of town - and I don't have any pounds on me. But I can give you this."

Ron took her hand and placed the object in it. It was freezing to the touch, and Hermione shivered as she examined it. It was some sort of hourglass; gold with a matching chain around it. Well, at least it was coloured gold. There was an inscription on it although Hermione couldn’t work out what it said at first glance.

Suddenly the pendant grew hot in her hand, and it started to turn.

_ I mark the hours, every one, nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, are gauged by what you have to do. _

"We're not a pawn shop!" Hermione shouted, but he had already disappeared again.

She looked around frantically, finally locating him across the street with two others, both dressed in cloaks similar to his. One was a girl, about a foot shorter than him, but with the same flaming red hair and freckled skin. She was most likely his sister.

The other was a boy, slightly shorter than Ron, and far skinnier. Hermione could tell right off the bat he wasn't a part of the same family, based on his unfreckled skin, messy black hair and round glasses. But Ron treated him as if he was his brother, throwing an arm around him and laughing over something he’d just said.

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, but none of the three heard her.

Hermione quickly shoved the necklace in her pocket, planning on making a move to follow them. The raggedy blue police box had appeared, as if out of thin air. Ron unlocked the door, and all three of them stepped inside.

"Where do you think you're going?" her manager asked, clamping a hand down suddenly on her shoulder and preventing Hermione from chasing after them.

She sighed, and turned around to face him.

"A customer didn't pay. He's -" Hermione turned back, but like ten years before the blue police box was gone. Ron and his friends were nowhere to be seen. Another cool breeze came like a whisper, sending a chill down her spine.

"He's where?" her manager asked, his voice growing even more impatient.

"Gone," Hermione admitted, looking down at her feet. "I - I lost him."

For once, it wasn't school that led to Hermione losing her job. That boy - that stupid, red-headed boy.

If Hermione knew what Ron had given her and the trouble it would bring her, she would have thrown it straight into the Thames. But alas, she didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione looked past the window pane into the vast storm that had come that night, covering the entire city of London in several feet of snow. This year, at least, they would have a white Christmas.

She pressed her fingertips against the glass, watching the flakes continue to fall, dusting the driveway that had been recently shoveled by her father - something he only did when they needed to take the car out.

Most children her age rejoiced at the beginning of winter break, but for Hermione the time off was a torturous affair.

Hermione closed the curtains and threw herself back onto her bed, pulling the blanket over her head. She knew she couldn't hide from her parents. This tactic had never worked before, but it wasn't without its benefits. Being wrapped up in bed and shutting herself off from the outside world was the only time Hermione could feel some sort of warmth during the winter.

The creak travelled through her door, a sound that could only have come from the fifth step. Her mother coming up the stairs to pull her away from comfort, no doubt.

Hermione groaned and turned on her side, rolling her eyes as the knock came.

"Hermione, sweetie?" Mrs. Granger poked her head inside, not fooled by her daughters fake snoring. "You'd better get dressed. The roads are pretty slippery, so if we want to get there on time we'd better get going."

She left the door partially open when she departed, knowing Hermione would have to get up to close it.

Hermione was out of bed in seconds, slamming it shut.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." she muttered under her breath repeatedly, banging her head against the door.

Everyone who was remotely associated with the name 'Granger' did the same thing at the beginning of the holidays. Like birds migrating for the winter, Hermione and her parents would drive for hours to her grandmother’s house and spend the entire break there. She would have found it somewhat bearable, except every other Granger had the same idea.

Hermione knew there was no fighting it. Still cursing, she started to get dressed while Crookshanks made himself at home on her bed.

She kneeled down and reached under her bed, moving her hand around until she felt it. Hermione pulled out the box, brushing the dust off the top and opening it, revealing the hourglass necklace Ron had given her all those months ago.

Hermione felt the pendant grow hot in her hand as it began to turn, displaying the same words: _I mark the hours, every one, nor have I yet outrun the Sun. My use and value, unto you, are gauged by what you have to do._

Despite its words, the hourglass failed to mark the hours properly. Every time she titled the pendant, letting the sand flow from one end to the other, the timing was never consistent, and never came close to an hour. The damn thing had cost her a job and it didn't even work.

"Look at this rubbish." Hermione said, holding it up to Crookshanks.

Her cat tilted his head, leaned forward and started licking it.

"Stop that!" she pulled it away from him, rubbing it on her jumper. Suddenly, the pendant turned as cold as ice and rotated a second time. Hermione's vision grew blurry for a moment, the sentence coming together to form one glowing word.

_Rose._

"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger called out. "Are you ready yet?"

"Coming, mum!"

Hermione grabbed one last book and stuffed it in her suitcase before she left her room, heading down the stairs with Crookshanks following close behind.

"I'm just warming up the car." Mr. Granger said as he came through the door, stomping off his boots to clear the snow. "Also, I just heard from Lizzie. Her flight got cancelled because of the storm and they had to catch a train. We're gonna have to pick her up from the station. It's on our way there, so we shouldn't be too off schedule."

Hermione, whose thoughts had been back upstairs with the rest of her books, was brought back to reality with an unpleasant smack.

Aunt Lizzie was Mr. Granger's sister, though Hermione never acknowledged her as a member of the family. They shared blood, but Lizzie was an aunt in name only, and the feeling appeared to be mutual.

Thankfully the only interaction they had took place during the holidays. Aunt Lizzie didn't live in London, or anywhere close to it. Come to think of it, Hermione didn't know where she called home, only that it was out in the country with her husband Dave.

It didn't take long for Hermione to start hating her aunt, despite their limited interaction.

On Hermione's third Christmas, she'd spent all day reading the new book her grandad had given her. Aunt Lizzie threw it away and told her to play with her cousins instead.

The year she saw the police box disappear, Hermione told the entire family about Ron. In return, she handed Mr. and Mrs. Granger a list of psychiatrists to have their daughter examined.

And the year before she started at Benenden, Lizzie stepped on Crookshanks' tail, even though he was just a kitten at the time.

"Not Lizzie!" Hermione blurted out.

"We're going to be seeing her for the next two weeks." her mother came up behind her, dragging her suitcase across the floor. "A couple extra hours isn't going to kill you."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Mrs. Granger had a gift. No matter how quietly Hermione said something, she could always hear. Especially when that something was sarcastic.

"You'd better keep things civil." Mrs. Granger stepped past her, handing both suitcases to her husband who went back outside. "I know you don't get along that well, but she's still your aunt. Do you think you can do that?"

"Fine." Hermione said through gritted teeth. "But it's never my fault! Why can't you guys talk to her?!"

"Because - for whatever reason - your father loves her." she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Lizzie's always been difficult; you know that. Just... just try to ignore her, please."

Having to be in the same vehicle for two hours, trapped with Aunt Lizzie - it was the worst gift she could have received for Christmas.

Hermione ended up sleeping on again and off again over the next few hours; Crookshanks curled up in her lap. Though she'd been restless for the past few days, she soon regretted catching up on her lost hours of sleep when she opened her eyes, finding herself in between two yellow lines in the train station parking lot.

"We're here." Mr. Granger announced, bundling himself up and slipping his gloves on.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, forcing herself not to groan for the sake of her father. Mrs. Granger reached back, giving her leg a brief squeeze.

"You'll be fine." she mouthed, stepping outside.

Hermione opened her door and Crookshanks leapt into her arms.

"How far are we from grandma's house?" she asked, jogging as best she could through the heavy snow to catch up with her parents, nearly stumbling a couple times.

"It won't be long." Mr. Granger said, holding the door open for the two of them. The Granger's stepped into the station, stomping off their boots. "Less than a hundred miles. I reckon we should get to there just in time for dinner."

Lizzie, as it turned out, wasn't the only one who decided to take the train. Hermione tried to keep up with her parents, clutching Crookshanks to her chest as she was bumped around the crowd, not one noticing she was in their path.

She saw her parents moved their lips, but couldn't hear the words that escaped them. All Hermione could hear was the sounds of hundreds of people moving around the station; groups laughing, families shouting at each other, people singing along to the carols playing in the background. Hermione found herself humming along as they descended the stairs.

Mr. Granger waved and caught the attention of a man standing at the bottom of the stairs, two suitcases on his left and a woman on his right. Hermione didn't realize who he was until Aunt Lizzie looked up from her phone, glaring at her.

"Hugo. Jean." Lizzie nodded at the two of them before turning to her niece, her eyes travelling up and down her body. "Harmony."

Hermione was bursting to smack Lizzie, but it took only one look from her mother to put a stop to it.

"Close." she said, managing to twist her face into a smile. "It's Hermione."

"Of course it's Hermione." Lizzie laughed, linking arms with Dave and picking up her suitcase as the newly formed group of five headed back up the stairs. "I wouldn't forget my own niece's name."

Hermione didn't know what was worse: Lizzie _actually_ forgetting her name, or calling her Harmony on purpose.

Even then, it was a major improvement on the old nicknames. Unlike everyone at the coffee shop or school, Lizzie didn't butcher Hermione's name with the pronunciation. Back when Hermione's two abnormally large front teeth stuck out, her aunt always called her a rabbit, up to the point where she was finally able to get her braces off.

"How was the trip over?" Mr. Granger asked, taking their bags in his arms and attempting to fit them into the trunk.

"Could've been worse." Dave said. "Few delays here and there 'cause of the storm, but it sure beats flying."

Hermione climbed into the middle seat of the second row, squeezing her limbs together once she put her seatbelt on. Even when she tried to make herself as scarce as possible, she still found herself cramped between Dave and Lizzie.

"I think you'll remember Crookshanks." Hermione's lips curved into a grin as she loosened her grip on her cat. "He really missed you."

Crookshanks glared at Lizzie and lunged at her. She screamed, pressing herself up against the car door as Crookshanks walked all over her, giving an extra amount of attention to her jumper. There was a lot less material left when he hopped back into Hermione's lap, licking the corners of his mouth.

"You'd better keep that bloody thing under control!" Lizzie shrieked.

"I can't help it if he doesn't like you." she said, patting him on the head.

Hermione turned away from her aunt to look out the window, shielding Crookshanks just in case she snapped. Lizzie was red in the face, breathing heavily. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if she hadn't attacked an animal already.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Granger poked her head through the window, her eyes moving up and down Lizzie's tattered jumper.

Lizzie started to speak, but Hermione simply rolled her eyes and tuned her out, humming along to the songs she heard in the train station. At times during her aunts rant, she could swear she heard noises coming from inside, people singing and the odd banging.

Crookshanks narrowed his yellow eyes and raised his tale, his claws coming out as he hissed at the noise. Soon, it was even too loud for Lizzie to ignore.

All were now silent. Hermione didn't know when the singing actually stopped, but now, quite suddenly, the only thing she could hear from the station was screaming.


End file.
